


Good Things Come to Pets Who Wait

by thatmermaidgirl



Series: What It Takes to Be a Good Pet [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Consensual, Dom Jensen Ackles, Established Relationship, Jared Wants To Be Jensen's Pet, M/M, Master Jensen Ackles, Master/Pet, Pet Jared Padalecki, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Total Power Exchange, this is all consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmermaidgirl/pseuds/thatmermaidgirl
Summary: Today has been a good day. It’s late afternoon, approaching evening. The sun is coming through the large windows at an angle that makes the side of Master’s face glow like that of an angel cast out of Heaven for having the audacity to be more perfect than even God himself. Everything is serene and at peace.“Good, Pet.” Master’s hands tangle in Jared’s hair. The tugging feeling on his scalp shoots pleasure down his spine. Master’s powerful hips quicken, the hot, heavy weight of his member dragging in and out over Jared’s tongue, but never any farther. Master closes his eyes and sighs, tongue peaking out to lick at his bottom lip. Jared is transfixed. He wishes he could just dive forward and take it all, down to the root, burying himself in the dark curly hairs at the base of Master’s cock.Or, the fic where Master Jensen and Pet Jared have a good, peaceful day at home, involving a home-cooked meal, ice cream, and blow jobs.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: What It Takes to Be a Good Pet [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920880
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	Good Things Come to Pets Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Jared is Jensen's full-time pet. He wants and has agreed to this. Everything in this fic, and the rest in this series, is consensual.

Jared by @AreJackles on Twitter ( _huge_ thanks to her!!), poster by me

Master is working on very important things. Jared doesn’t know what those things are, of course. But _everything_ Master does is important.

Today has been a good day. It’s late afternoon, approaching evening. The sun is coming through the large windows at an angle that makes the side of Master’s face glow like that of an angel cast out of Heaven for having the audacity to be more perfect than even God himself. Everything is serene and at peace. Jared sighs through his nose and briefly closes his eyes, suckling the cock in his mouth. It’s such a comforting weight on his tongue, which he wishes he was permitted to move. He would dip it into the slit of Master’s cockhead, trying to coax out every bitter-sweet drop of Master’s essence that he could.

About an hour ago, Jared was kneeling on his cushion, admiring how the beauty of Master’s features is greater than the number of stars in all the galaxies combined, when Master tapped his knee twice for Jared to come warm his cock. Jared couldn’t help the way his face lit up. He quickly crawled between Master’s spread legs, unzipped the custom Tom Ford slacks, and pulled Master’s soft member from his Armani boxer briefs. With only the finest materials allowed to touch Master’s body, it’s astounding that Jared may, as well.

Master also signalled for Jared’s head to rest on his thigh. While he works, one hand strokes Jared’s hair, adept fingers scrubbing his scalp. If permitted, Jared could easily fall into a sleep as peaceful as if he was lying on the pillowy white sands of a beach otherwise untouched by humanity.

Jared reopens his eyes and gazes adoringly at Master. He cherishes these quiet, still, peaceful moments they have together. Master’s expression is relaxed and his eyes are bright, so Jared hopes it’s not too strenuous a workday. He craves for more of Master’s days to be like this—he works so hard—but he knows that the nature of Master’s job does not grant such leniency often.

It’s alright. On the stressful days, Jared is there to give Master anything he might need. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love those long sessions in the dungeon on Master’s worst days. He suppresses a contented shudder. Master has always been in control of himself and has never simply taken his stress and frustrations out on Jared’s hide, but play always calms him down.

There are a few more clicks of the mouse before Master brings his right hand down to Jared’s hair as well. Grasping Jared’s head in both hands to keep it where he wants it, he stands, using a foot to push his rolling chair backwards. “Master needs to come, now, Pet, and then we’re going to eat dinner,” he informs him before beginning a slow rhythm of thrusting in and out of Jared’s mouth. “You want Master’s cum, don’t you, my sweet boy?”

Jared holds back the moan wanting to reverberate up his throat. _Yes,_ he wants Master’s cum. He _needs_ Master’s cum! But if he voices his opinion, Master won’t finish in his mouth. He has great practice hiding the yearning from showing on his face, since craving Master is a constant. Jared does not waver.

“Good, Pet.” Master’s hands tangle in Jared’s hair. The tugging feeling on his scalp shoots pleasure down his spine. Master’s powerful hips quicken, the hot, heavy weight of his member dragging in and out over Jared’s tongue, but never any farther. Master closes his eyes and sighs, tongue peaking out to lick at his bottom lip. Jared is transfixed. He wishes he could just dive forward and take it all, down to the root, burying himself in the dark curly hairs at the base of Master’s cock.

After a couple minutes of this leisurely pace, Master finally pulls Jared all the way down on himself, forcing him to stay there. Jared holds the bloated head of Master’s cock in his throat, so far back he can’t breathe even through his nose—yet the scent of Master’s sweat and musk still permeates his nostrils. He swallows reflexively around the thick, pulsing appendage, eyes always staying locked with his Master’s.

Master continues to take take take, roughly pumping his hips with abandon, never pulling all the way out. His cockhead continually rams into the back of Jared’s throat, making him choke and gag. Jared stifles a moan and drools at the drops of salty nectar gracing his tongue. His head floats higher with each second that goes by.

Tears well in Jared’s eyes. They’re not all from the assault on his body. Spots in his vision or not, Master is just so beautiful like this—pupils blown, eyes heavily lidded with lust, a flush covering his cheeks, sweat forming at his brow. Owning Jared like the low-life he is.

Jared is not worthy of Master using him like this. He is not even worthy of licking the scuffs on the floor that Master has graced it with his feet.

Nobody is.

Master’s panting at the exertion, quick puffs of breath audible in the room, face beginning to twist with pleasure. Jared knows his own must not look too different. He feels the blissful smile pulling at his lips as much as it can. He takes just as much joy from this as Master. Jared could finish just like this, if permitted. He has before, in fact.

When he—nothing but a flea-infested rodent—manages to extract these sounds from Master’s parted lips, Jared always feels a sense of immense fulfillment. _He_ did that. _He_ caused Master’s chest to heave and fingers to curl. And afterwards, when Master tucks himself back into his briefs, sated and in a state of repose?

Pleasuring Master gives Jared’s life purpose.

Small grunts pierce through Master’s lips as he pounds his target. The light feeling in Jared’s brain becomes harder to ignore, and he sees more black spots than he sees Master. He has no control over his ceaselessly repetitive swallowing. The choking sounds and grunting grow in volume jointly. Jared battles the impulse to shove away and gulp that sweet, sweet oxygen. The instinct never leaves.

He wishes it would. He’d let Master choke him out completely like this, if that’s what he desired. Jared sways ever so slightly, facial features beginning to slacken.

That’s when Master drags out just far enough for Jared to suck some pungent air in through his nose. Nostrils flaring, one, two, three pulls are all he gets before Master slams home again with a long, ardent groan, head slightly bowed and eyes shut tightly.

He holds himself there for a couple seconds before a hand drops from Jared’s hair to his cheek, tapping once.

Jared would cry in gratitude, if he wasn’t already.

He tongues along the thick vein on the underside of Master’s cock, then swirls it around the shaft. Master’s face reflects ecstasy. “Ohhh, Pet,” he grits out, voice husky and gruff. Jared feels the pesky appendage between his legs twitch at the sound, and is thankful Master can’t see. “Master’s going to come, Pet.” He pulls out so only the tip of his cock is settled between Jared’s lips.

He can feel his body thrumming with the gratification of pleasing his Master. Despite his stock-still appearance, Jared feels as if he’s going to vibrate out of his skin with need. _Please,_ he begs internally, _please, Master. I’ll be so good, I swear!_ He tries his best to entice it out of Master, suckling the head, tonguing the slit.

He tastes the salt of Master’s sweat. He tastes it from his own tears that were pumped into his mouth with Master’s cock. He tastes it from the precome leaking steadily.

And with Master’s guttural shout, he tastes it from the ropes of cum coating his cavern.

Jared tries to hold onto it all, but there’s so much that some streams down the back of his throat. He can’t contain the moan any longer. Master’s cum is Jared’s drug, and he’s a hard-core addict.

Jared loves everything about Master finishing inside his mouth. He loves the euphoria he sees in Master’s features, followed by the look of pure blissfulness. He loves knowing that _he_ did that. _He_ caused Master’s pleasure. He loves the taste, despite how acrid or acerbic. But mostly, he loves knowing that Master is _inside_ of him. Master truly owns him, body and soul.

“Swallow.”

—

In the kitchen, Jared kneels in his corner. Master is cooking tonight. He likes to do that sometimes. He says it relaxes him. The room smells exquisite—herbs and spices mingling together, making Jared’s mouth water. He couldn’t begin to name them. Master may be an expert chef, but Jared can’t even call himself proficient.

It’s just another way he is so fortunate to have Master in his life, willing to care for a useless bottom-feeder like Jared.

They’ve been in here about an hour while Master casually ambles through the kitchen, doing all sorts of things like preparing a salad, kneading dough, running it through the pasta machine, browning ground beef, sautéing vegetables, and tossing them in a pot to simmer. Jared could kneel here for hours more, watching the god-like visage of his Master, rolled-up sleeves allowing Jared to witness the muscles in his forearms tense and relax while he works. It’s enchanting. Master made the Rule for Jared to watch him, but even without it, a stampede of elephants suddenly traipsing across the floor, trumpeting and heading straight for Jared, couldn’t tear his eyes away. The mere sight of Master is far too powerful a spell.

Just a few minutes ago, Master opened one of the oven doors. A waft of warm air blasted Jared, and the aroma of freshly baked bread has only added to the comfort of the day. The loaf was removed and set out to cool, on the counter right next to where Jared kneels. His mouth has been watering nonstop since.

Master moves to stir some pots and then begins washing silverware at the sink. It’s peculiar, since he has servants to do this. If they missed some spots, Master could just call them back down to do it over. But it’s not Jared’s concern what Master does with his servants or his silverware.

Drying and polishing them off, he walks to the next room with napkins wrapped around his bouquet of two forks, a knife, and a spoon. If he is setting his place, then they shouldn’t be in the kitchen too much longer. Jared cranes his head as if, if he could just stretch a little farther, he could see Master around the corner and through the walls. Barely a minute has passed, and Jared already misses him something fierce.

Master returns and prepares some dishes. He walks towards the dining room, and when he reaches Jared, without even pausing, he commands, “Heel, Pet.”

They round the corner and walk under the archway to the dining room. The long, ornate table, lavish rug, gilded chandeliers, and chairs with cashmere cushions used to awe Jared every time they entered. It was like walking into the dining hall of a king, only smaller. Master’s chair, situated in the back of the room at the far end of the table, _does_ resemble a throne.

Now, he pays these details no mind, focused only on Master.

Master sits his dishes in front of his seat at the head of the table. He wears an elegant bracelet that matches Jared’s collar—emerald green with white stitching and metal studs—and Jared’s leash hooks onto a circular clasp on the underside so Master can easily hold him hands-free. He has much more important things to do with his hands than holding onto Jared.

Jared kneels on his dining cushion. It is as ornamental as the rest of the room and matches the seat to Master’s chair—a pale golden color with crimson accents. Master is humming softly to himself while getting things situated. He turns his chair to face Jared before sitting, which is odd, but not something Jared’s complaining about. To be able to watch Master head-on is a gift.

Master places a napkin over his lap. Then, with an adoring look on his face, he tucks a matching one into Jared’s collar. Jared can tell how focused his Master is on this task by the tip of his tongue peaking out between his plump, lush lips. While the cloth is soft against Jared’s neck, it is not as soft as Master’s fingers, gently caressing his skin.

Once Master seems satisfied with his work, he strokes his right hand from Jared’s temple, down his cheek, and across his jaw, thumb dragging over his bottom lip and pulling it down. Jared longs to be told he may stick his tongue out and taste, to suck the digit into his cavern and swirl his tongue around it. Before he knows it, the hand is gone, Master’s loving gaze with it.

Master picks up a fork to begin his meal. Other than some bites of bread, it’s not a meal he’ll be able to feed to Jared without a utensil (which are not for pets), and Master didn’t grab one of Jared’s dinners for him. But that’s ok. Jared doesn’t mind not eating for the night. Today has been _such_ a good day that he doesn’t mind one single bit. In fact, he’d be thrilled to do it all over again, day after day, until he wastes away to nothing.

“Vegetables first, Pet,” Master proclaims, turning his body to pierce some salad on his fork.

Jared stays silent. It’s not appropriate for him to respond. What order Master eats his meals is Master’s decision, not Jared’s. Pets don’t get opinions.

“We don’t want you missing out on important vitamins and nutrients.”

Wait, what?

Master turns his body towards Jared. As the utensil is offered to him, Jared peers at Master’s face, willing himself to not look as befuddled as he feels. His mind races. Is he supposed to accept, or is this some sort of Punishment? _It could be the cake all over again..._

It’s not his place to ask questions, though, and despite not remembering doing a punishable offense, Jared trusts Master inexorably to know what’s best. If he needs to be taught a lesson for misbehaving, Master will make sure he learns. So, without hesitating, Jared opens his mouth.

And the fork is lowered into it.

As he tentatively seals his lips around the silver, Jared’s emotions are in turmoil. He’s puzzled, yes, but he’s also elated. Master is letting him eat from a _fork?_ One of _Master’s_ forks? As in, a fork that has been graced by Master’s own lips? That has felt his tongue flick along the prongs; has been enclosed within the wonderful wet heat of his mouth? Either Jared is being blessed by Master. Either that, or God is real, somehow _not_ Master, and Jared has somehow died and gone to heaven.

Jared no longer believes in any afterlife. Not after his first 24 hours with Master. There can be no one more perfect, and God would not create a man more faultless than himself.

So, he’s probably not dead.

This is a _huge_ deal.

However, some wistfulness creeps around the edges of his joy. Instead of getting to taste Master’s warm, salty skin and feel his digits press into his tongue, Jared has to accept food off cold, tangy metal. Still, he wishes he had more time to savor this moment.

The utensil is pulled back. Jared chews the lettuce and carrot shreds in his mouth. He continues to school his expression, masking both his excitement and disappointment. He tries to push the yearning feeling away to enjoy this special occasion. A utensil, and food that he hasn’t eaten in over half a year? He swallows his food and his longingness together.

The corner of Master’s emerald eyes crinkle with his small, close-mouthed smile. Jared lives for those crinkles and smiles.

“Good, Pet.”

And he lives for Master’s praise just as much.

A hand lands on Jared’s head again. Master softly scritches behind his ear, tenderly strokes down his jaw, and slides two fingers over Jared’s lips. They press in, pushing against his teeth. Master’s thumb taps twice under Jared’s chin. His mouth unseals faster than a crocodile with meat on a hook dangling over its head. The fingers thrust in, and Jared has to hold back a moan as Master pets his tongue.

Master’s fingers don’t let up even as he turns to spear more salad onto the fork. Jared’s tongue remains still—he hasn’t been permitted to take his pleasure. Master trades his digits for the fork once again.

They go back and forth like that for a while. Master feeds Jared, Jared chews and swallows, and Master plunges his fingers into Jared’s willing cavern. Jared feasts on crunchy lettuce with a tangy italian dressing and savory parmesan, cherry tomatoes that burst over his tongue, brown olives that are slightly nutty with a salty brine taste, sharp, astringent red onions, croutons from homemade bread, and pepperoncini, which are completely new to him and not altogether too pleasant to his palate. Still, he never thought a simple salad could taste so wonderful before being brought into Master’s home.

However, Master’s fingers are the best part of the meal. Of every meal.

Dishes clink together as Master shuffles plates. He brings one piled with spaghetti and meat sauce closer to the ornate table’s edge.

Master twirls the fork against the spoon, spinning the spaghetti into a manageable bite to bring to Jared. But when his hand reappears, eating without mess suddenly doesn’t seem to be feasible at all. Noodles are hanging down off it, sauce about to drip onto the floor, and Jared knows there is no way he can take the bite without smearing his face with red.

Master’s fingers retract from his mouth and grab his jaw, holding it open and slathering Jared’s cheeks in his own slobber. With a glint in his eyes, Master lowers the fork to his mouth, pasta dangling, swaying back and forth, bits of meat falling to the floor.

And he’s about fifty-percent off target.

“Oops,” Master smirks, as the cuisine is rubbed over Jared’s left cheek in its path to his parted lips. Jared doesn’t mind, of course. Master can do anything to him. _Anything._

While he admires the springy texture and rich flavor of the homemade noodles, Master removes his own napkin from his lap and begins to carefully dab at Jared’s face. He hums a tune, the cherishing look back in place over his features. After, Master brings a crystal glass to his lips to feed him some water. Once Jared swallows, Master’s thumb makes its way back into his mouth, swirling in a quick circle. He draws it back out and rubs once more at Jared’s cheek.

He recognizes the song as “Simple Man”.

_Oh, take your time, don't live too fast. Troubles will come, and they will pass._

Jared sighs peacefully.

Today is definitely a sunny day.

—

The rest of dinner wasn’t too unsimilar from that first mouthful. Master switched between proffering Jared home baked bread dipped in olive oil with pepper and parmesan, sips of water, and spaghetti, and wiped his mouth after each bite.

Finished feeding Jared, Master pats his head. “Good boy. Wait here, Pet. Master will be right back.” He rises, disconnects Jared’s leash from his bracelet, and loops it over the back of Jared’s neck so it stays off the ground. Then he collects the dishes and returns to the kitchen. He must be making plates for himself.

Jared suddenly feels dreadfully empty. Master has been so kind to him. With the attention and affection abruptly gone after Jared was blessed with them for an entire _day,_ he feels very alone and increasingly distressed with each passing minute—despite only being separated by a single wall.

 _This is pathetic,_ he thinks. You’re _pathetic. You can’t go five minutes alone for Master to do something for himself for once?_

He wants to close his eyes and shake his head, as if he can hurl the bad thoughts from his skull. But Master said to wait here. Just like this.

One bead of sweat forms at Jared’s temple, then another. He feels droplets start to take shape in the dip of his collarbone, as well. _Master will be right back,_ he tells himself. _Right back. He’ll be right… back._ He might even be lingering on the other side of that wall, watching the cameras to make sure Jared doesn’t break form.

He won’t. He’d _never._ The flagrant disrespect of waiting until Master’s back is turned to misbehave… no, Jared can be a good pet. He won’t mess up—not today. He won’t ruin one of Master’s rare, peaceful days.

Only, what if he does? Jared thinks back to all the mistakes he’s made, all the times he’s forced Master to take time out to teach him. Maybe some of those were good days for Master, before Jared screwed the pooch. Before Jared could tell Master’s emotions with only one quick glance at him.

And he _did_ used to purposefully misbehave, didn’t he? He’d do things just to get a rise out of Master. He was such a bad, _rotten_ pet. How could he have done those things?! Jared’s breath comes in quick pants as his mind reels.

Of course, Master chooses just that time to reappear in the archway, while his fully inadequate pet is completely out of control and can’t manage to even breathe properly.

“Pet!” Master exclaims. Jared hears plates scrape along the table and Master is kneeling in front of him in a second. He places his palms on either side of Jared’s face, staring deep into his eyes. The sight of those irises, green like fields of clover, helps calm Jared just a fraction. “Shush now, boy. Everything is alright. It’s okay, Pet. Come here,” he demands, pulling Jared sideways into his chest and lap.

Jared goes willingly, collapsing into Master’s sturdy form. He wraps his arms around his knees and tries to make himself small, tucking his head under Master’s chin and scenting him. The smell of sweat and woodsy cologne entwine to make one of pure _Master,_ and it begins to settle his nerves.

“That’s it, my sweet. Deep breaths. Master’s here. Master’s got you.” One hand soothes through Jared’s hair, the other one rubbing calming circles into his spine. As if Master reads his mind—which Jared hasn’t ever ruled out as a possibility—he proclaims, “I’ll never leave you, Pet. Not forever. You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

Jared can’t help the tears when they fall. It’s like a dam broke inside him—one he didn’t even know was there. Master continues to shush him, and tenderly rocks them. Jared wants to speak, to apologize for ruining Master’s formerly crisp, starched shirt. It has a price tag far over what Jared could ever be worth. He settles for angling his head away from Master’s chest, so his snot and tears fall onto himself instead.

But the hand in his hair quickly pulls Jared back into place. “I don’t care about the shirt,” Master mutters. “I care about _you.”_ He kisses the top of Jared’s head and they continue on just like that for a few minutes, in complete silence other than the sweet nothings whispered into Jared’s ear. “I can buy a million of these, Pet. I only have one of you.”

Even after Jared manages to wrangle his emotions under control, sniffling weakly, Master continues to rock them, this time humming Metallica.

_Life is ours, we live it our way. All these words, I don't just say. And nothing else matters._

Nothing else matters.

He nuzzles in closer.

—

After the song finished, Master directed Jared to kneel on his pillow once more. He retrieved his dishes and settled in to dine, making a point of snapping Jared’s leash back onto the chain. Jared felt horribly guilty that Master’s food must have gotten cold, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He inserted two fingers back into Jared’s mouth, which made Jared feel quite content, and he managed to settle for the rest of the meal just fine.

Now, Master is rising once more. He keeps Jared’s leash in its place hooked to his wrist this time. “Heel,” he commands, gathering plates and silverware and striding to the kitchen. Jared’s long limbs (and countless hours of practice) allow him to keep up just fine as they cross the long room and round the corner into the kitchen.

Master dumps the dishes in the sink and grabs a spoon out of a drawer next to it, turning back to scrub it. “You’ve been such a good boy today, Pet. You deserve a treat. When is the last time you had ice cream?” he asks, washing the utensil.

Jared’s mouth salivates. Ice cream? Gee, it seems like it’s been a lifetime! Jared has never denied that he has a sweet tooth, and Master generally keeps it sated quite well with a variety of gummies. _Ice cream,_ though...

Jared follows Master around the kitchen blindly while daydreaming about strawberry and vanilla, caramel and hot fudge, sprinkles and cookie crumbles. He hasn’t had anything even _close_ to ice cream since his time before Master, around nine months ago.

Soon, Master holds a bowl with a single scoop of the heavenly ambrosia and leads Jared to the island. He sits on a stool and glances down at his kneeling pet, and Jared once again realizes how unworthy he is. Master’s chiseled jawline, cheekbones so sharp they could cut diamonds, green eyes like enchanted forests full of adventure. Everything about him is flawless—even the slight bend to his nose.

More than just his face though, Master’s body is the epitome of perfection. He has strong arms that can carry even Jared through the house, and hands skilled enough to craft an excellent souffle, powerful enough to kill a man, yet soft enough to stroke Jared’s head while he works and soothe away any worries. He has impressive hips and thighs that can hammer against Jared’s ass for hours, and Jared used to be disgusted by the thought of feet, but even those on Master are immaculate. He is truly impeccable. Jared is nothing in comparison.

They come to a stop at the island. Master takes a seat on a stool and Jared sinks into his kneel. When he looks back into Master’s eyes, he sees nothing but warmth, tenderness, and affection. Jared represses a smile.

Master runs the side of hand down Jared’s cheek before tipping his jaw up farther, then tapping under his chin. Jared’s jaw drops on command while thinking how he could never grow tired of that smile. It’s as gorgeous as secret springs in the mountains, with clear, turquoise waters, and beams of sunlight peeking through blossoming treetops.

Master brings a spoonful to just outside Jared’s mouth and holds it there. Ice cream melts along his bottom lip.

Master lowers the bite for Jared to take. The cold, creamy, sweet sensations are overwhelming and Jared hums in pleasure. Master chuckles, before bending down to lick the mess off Jared’s lip. When he sits back, he wears a smile warmer than any nest of blankets, quilts, comforters, or throws could ever be.

And that makes it a great day, too.

—

Jared sits at Master’s feet, in his pet bed, leaning back between Master’s open legs. They’re watching some feel-good family film and, though they’re nearing the end of it, Jared couldn’t even name a character if he tried. His mind is blissful and unfocused as talented fingers card through his hair. Reflecting back on the day, Jared commits each moment to memory.

He sees the sparkle in Master’s eyes while feeding him home cooked pasta more than he sees the faces on the screen. He feels Master’s strong arms encasing him, rocking them gently. He boxes up Master’s grunts and groans, the songs he hummed, and the honeyed blandishments whispered, storing them in his mind. He won’t forget the delectable taste of the meal Master made them, nor the ethereal scents in the kitchen.

“Up, Pet,” Master whispers lowly into the still air.

Could this day get any better?

Jared turns around and clambers into Master’s lap. As if mimicking their earlier positions, he makes himself as small as he can and fits his head under Master’s jaw. “Rest,” Master says, chest rumbling in Jared’s ear. And he does.

—

He is awoken not long after, lying atop Master’s bed, Master hovering over Jared and stroking his face. Eyes crinkling, his lips tug into a smile that Jared mirrors. “Welcome back, Pet.”

Master lowers himself then, chest brushing Jared’s, hair tickling waxed-smooth skin, and presses their lips together. Jared opens willingly for Master’s tongue to delve into his mouth and explore every corner. Master claims it, licking along his teeth, biting his lower lip and dragging it back. Jared can’t stop the quiet keen. “Shush, boy,” Master admonishes him. “Master will take care of you.”

He thrusts two fingers into Jared’s mouth again, tapping his cheek with his thumb. Jared sucks and tongues along the digits as Master bites and licks his way down his body, leaving marks like pullulating peonies and sucking bruises like blooming roses that will mar Jared’s body for days, serving as reminders for them both. Not that Jared could forget the feeling of Master’s face and five-o’clock shadow grazing over his flesh.

He does his best to be still and silent, but it’s near impossible. He squirms minutely, fighting his body every step of the way. It’s a war he’s winning just barely. Control doesn’t come easy when Master is kissing his collarbone, licking the sweat off, nibbling his skin. It’s sweet, sweet suffering, the way Master breaks him down while forcing him to stay still. Jared sees the parallels between this wonderful torture and having his limbs all tied to separate horses—for both, he’s being pulled apart, yet unable to move.

He vastly prefers _this_ torment.

Master removes his fingers with a popping sound and slides them down Jared’s body. They trace down his neck, around his peaked nipples, chart over his ribs like they’re mountains and valleys, draw a straight line down from his navel to his cock, until they finally arrive to circle Jared’s furled hole. The trails of saliva cool and, combined with the probing digits, cause him to suppress shudders. Master kisses Jared one more time, thrusting his tongue along Jared’s, before sinking down his body and puffing out hot breath over his cock.

There’s not a twinge.

Master smirks up at Jared and licks the length up it, fingers prodding and just barely pushing in before pulling out again to tease.

Jared bites his tongue and fights his body.

Still nothing.

His cock does not move.

“Good,” Master breathes. “You can get hard, Pet.”

Jared sighs in relief. His member instantly fills, lengthening past his belly button. Almost instantly, he’s so hard his cock is a deep purply-red and pulsing. Master takes him into his mouth again and releases him, the engorged head slapping against Jared’s stomach.

Master makes eye contact with Jared, fingers stilling, tips right at his entrance. “Serenade me, Pet. Shout and dance. Earn it.”

And Jared does.

Master sinks down on his cock the same time his fingers drive into him. Jared cries out and throws his head. Master sucks, circles his tongue along the heated flesh, laps at it like it’s _his_ ice cream cone, and presses his agile fingers around that special spot inside him—but never directly over it. Jared fists the blankets and moans.

Suddenly, Master bears down on that hidden nub. The sound Jared makes is raw and it fills the room. It’s pure need. His toes curl. He forces his hips to be still—thrusting into Master is a _huge_ no-no. But the rest of him squirms like a worm writhing to the surface in a heavy rain. “Sir,” he chants. “Master, oh, oh!”

The sensations of the sleek silk sheets sliding along his skin only add to his craze. They put every cell on hyperalert, and he sings like a perched morning dove, calling non-stop till the sun reaches its climax in the sky. And oh, is Jared peaking.

Master swallows around the cock in his throat. Jared feels white-hot, and he needs to come, _needs_ to. He’s not sure how long he can hold it. He would plead, but he’s not been given permission to beg. He sucks in a deep breath and jams his tongue in the back of his throat to keep in the air, hoping it helps him hold onto control. His expanded chest enhances the toned muscles of his stomach. Master skims his fingertips over them, just barely touching.

He caresses Jared’s side, hand sliding down and back up, detouring to tweak his nipples. The breath Jared’s holding leaves him in an abrupt gust as his mouth forms a perfect “O”. He’s _so_ close.

He feels Master’s digits drag over his prostate. His tongue dips into the slit of Jared’s cock. Jared’s covered in gooseflesh, yet feels like he’s laid out in the desert sun, scorching.

He meets Master’s eyes again, those mesmerizing green orbs like thickets of evergreens he could get lost in. Master nods at Jared, signalling that his pet may come.

Like a cannon whose fuse finally burns up, Jared explodes.

Fireworks erupt in his mind. He feels euphoric—so high that the best drug couldn’t compare. Tears stream down his face as he mewls and writhes, shooting into Master’s mouth. He thinks he might be repeating “Sir, Master, oh, Sir,” on an endless loop like a track on replay, but he’s too gone to really tell. Through it, Master continues licking, sucking, stroking his insides.

It’s not often Master lets him finish like this, but by lord is it amazing when he does; though, any ways Master is intimate with him are incredible.

When he’s finished, Master crawls back up and seals their lips together, transferring Jared’s cum back to him. Jared takes it all. He keeps it there as Master leans back, watching him. “Swallow,” he orders.

Jared does not hesitate.

Master offers him a small smile. Jared feels his face break into a giddy grin. Sitting up and resting on the edge of the bed, Master tells him, “Master will be right back, Pet. You stay there.”

Jared’s not sure his legs work to even crawl after him, anyways. But he would drag his body over a bed of thorns or a sheet of hot coals if need be. He’d swallow nails if Master asked him. He’d—

A warm washcloth wipes his softened cock and down to rub over his hole, cleaning him. Then Master pats him down with a dry one. He sets them aside and pulls the lush covers over Jared, bending down to kiss his forehead.

Master moves around to the other side of his bed and climbs in alongside Jared. He pulls his pet into himself, arranging Jared’s limbs like a live doll.

Arm thrown over Master’s chest, legs tangled, and Master holding him close, Jared follows the last command of the day, whispered into his hair, and closes his eyes. It can’t be right, but he could swear he hears it, Master humming Fleetwood Mac softly.

_You, you make loving fun, it’s all I want to do. You, you…_

_———_

**Author's Note:**

> Songs are "Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica, and "You Make Loving Fun" by Fleetwood Mac. I suggest giving them a listen while you read!
> 
> Special thanks to EasyTiga for beta-ing this for me. I've been sick and this story mirrored my lacking brainpower. He helped me spruce it up.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has been very patient waiting for this next fic! Is anyone excited to read how Jared and Jensen meet? Because stay tuned... you get one more fic after this before we dive into that story. I can't wait to bring it to you!


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